Tenacity
by TheMainProtagonist
Summary: Arley Williams is in trouble: due to her former fiance, Commodore Norrington, she's destined for the noose in England. Her boat is raided by Captain Sparrow: Norrington has something he wants, and he'll go to all lengths to get it...


**Pirates Of The Caribbean: Tenacity**

**Rating:** M

**Genre:** Action/Adventure/Romance/Drama/General/Supernatural/Mystery… is that enough for you, or shall I keep going?

**Summary: **Arley Williams is in trouble. Big trouble. When she is duped and captured by her former fiance, Commodore James Norrington, she knows she has to do something to save herself from the infamous noose of England, after having been accused of consorting with pirates. One thing she never expected was to be aided by the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow, who is after something of dubious legality that the Commodore is in possession of.

Fortunately for Arley, due to a rather large error on Sparrow's behalf, she is stuck aboard the _Black Pearl_, where she arises her fair share of suspicion- but none more so than when she is challenged to a duel, and it seems she knows exactly what to do with a sword. Arley can't explain nor remember when it was that she learnt. After all, she's just an audacious young lady from Port Royal, isn't she? After more probing, Jack discovers that there is, indeed, three years missing from Arley's life that she cannot recall, nor rationalise how it is that she cannot remember.

What follows is an arduous and dangerous journey to the furthest corner of the world to find the one man who can answer these questions, and, the crew hope, find some treasure along the way.

But with Arley and Jack fighting non stop the entire journey, will the crew ever get a moment's peace? Will Norrington finally catch up and capture both Arley and Jack? Will the unresolved sexual tension between the pair finally boil over and erupt? Will Arley remember her past without any prompting?

Weighty questions, indeed.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ franchise, nor the characters that are taken from it. I do, however, own Arley Williams and the plot.

**A/N:** Unfortunately, there are some _Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest_ spoilers in this, although you don't need to have seen it to be able to understand the story.

* * *

Arley Williams flung herself off the edge of the railing.

She landed with a loud _thump_ on a small, stringy patch of grass that had turned yellow in the hot Caribbean sun and quickly stood up, brushing herself off with a wave of her hand against her ordinary cream dress. She was in a hurry, and although she had cut off a considerable amount of time by dropping the short fall to the level below, she had a fair way to go before she could elude the rest of the guards and eventually end up at the docks.

Cursing the dress she wore, not for the first time, she glanced first right, then left. Which way to go? She shook her head; no time to debate about the accurate route. Turning left, she ran down a small alleyway squished between two narrow houses. At the end was a rather crowded street, and she almost celebrated the fact, if it weren't for the Guard's footsteps echoing down the lane and their discouraging cries.

Quickening her steps, she slipped inside the nearest building- she made sure it wasn't residential, first- and gently shut the door behind her, just as the Guards ran resoundingly past the very door at which she was leaning against. She shut her eyes for a moment, allowing her lungs the air they needed before she opened her eyes again and peered into the gloom.

She was in some sort of shop; that much she could tell. It was dank and had a musty smell to it, and she mentally noted that the owner wasn't very keen on public hygiene, as the floors were covered with age-old grime and muck. There were a few tables and chairs cluttered against the window side of the room. Two chairs had legs missing and one chair had no legs all together, so that it was rested rather unceremoniously on the ground.

The dim light that actually made it through the few panes that were left unboarded allowed her to view the outlines of the rest of the furniture. There was a shabby couch that Arley concluded was the home to many mice, and a large bookcase on the far side of the wall opposite. She walked quietly- although why she was trying to be inconspicuous, she did not know- over to the bookcase.

It was made of antique wood, and Arley softly ran a finger along the frame. It was beautiful; she had to admit- although she had no use for it and no means to buy it, either way. It was dusty, and she could feel a sneeze building at the back of her throat. Suddenly, just when she had thought she was safe, it came out with an ear-splitting _ah-choo!_ She whirled around, certain that someone must have heard it and come to investigate. But the dreary and apparently uninhabited room remained silent, and so she turned her attention back to the bookcase.

The books that called it home were all old- not much younger than the bookcase itself, Arley mused, as she pulled out a particularly bland one and ran her finger along the publication date. Her eyes had adjusted to the dim setting, and she saw now that the book she was holding was nothing of interest. There was a sudden creak, and her gaze shot up to the left, but all that revealed was many particles swirling in the air, the sun making them more pronounced.

She had turned her attention back to the book, when a smooth voice said, "You know, it isn't polite to touch things that aren't yours."

Startled, she dropped the book and looked up at her companion. It was a man; he was reasonably well dressed and pruned. He had mid-length brown hair, a moustache and was wearing what looked to be a rather old, if not clean, sailor's coat. He spoke with a clipped English accent, and Arley wondered what on Earth he would be doing in a place such as the building she was currently in.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said nonchalantly, and Arley blushed as she realised that her thoughts and emotions were written all over her face. It was her most hated idiosyncratic, yet it appeared more often that not. The man- whom Arley presumed to be a sailor, although one that was terribly out of fashion- nodded and reached over, picking up the book but somehow managing to keep his gaze on her face. "My, my," he said, his voice saccharine sweet, "And what would an innocent such as yourself be doing reading something like _this_?" He held the cover of the book out to her. "Not something I would consider-" here he paused a moment, for added emphasis- "_Legal_."

She resisted the urge to slap the man. She was usually never shy in showing her animosity towards certain people, but for once instinct kicked in. Something told her that this man was not one who would take her ire lightly. "I was," she began, somewhat hesitantly, as she looked over her shoulder. "I was being chased, and I needed a place to rest."

"So you just happened to come into this building?" The man asked, gesturing towards the dilapidated walls and objects. "A place like this, surely, is not the place a young woman of your division ought to be in."

Arley pursed her lips indignantly. "A place of _my_ status, sir?"

"Ah ha." He mocked her, smirking. "_Sir_ is it? After all I've done for you, you've finally decided I'm worthy of your respect?" He looked down at her. "All these _years_ and not a simple, 'hello, James?'"

Shock coursed through her entire body and she released a ragged gasp that she had not know she was capable of. Taking a step back, she whispered coarsely, "_James_?"

"No," he replied, straightening up and adjusting his waistcoat. "_Commodore_ James Norrington, one of the many English Guards who want you arrested and brought to justice back in England, where you shall be hanged by order of the King of England himself." He laughed at her, patronising her as the fear crept into her heart like a rock towing her to the bottom of the sea.

She closed her eyes briefly, as the fire left in her died out and was replaced by apprehension and even terror. She opened one, and when she saw Norrington staring at her expectantly she released a sigh. "You've changed, James."

He laughed again, but this time it was more bitter; more rigorous. "No, _Ardelle_," he sneered, "It's not I who've changed. I'm still the same man whom you convinced you loved and then ran away from all those years ago."

This time it was Arley whose lips turned up, in an imitation of a smile. "Correct, James," she answered, recovering her strength. If she played this carefully, she could still come out on top. "Years ago. Don't you think you're a little embittered at the fact that a naïve seventeen year old ran away from you?"

"Ah," Norrington said, indulging her. "And the fact that you gave me your word?"

Arley shrugged, fixing the avenging sailor her best innocent look. "What can I say?" She asked, relaxing enough to actually take a few steps to the left. "A child's word does not mean anything."

"Rather like a pirate?" Norrington asked, his eyes not leaving hers as he matched her steps to the side. He smirked and told her, "You'll have to do better than that, Miss Williams."

Arley nodded agreeably. "So _that's_ what the latest charges are for," she mused aloud. "And here I was thinking that you actually wanted to see me come home."

Norrington let out an undignified snort. "I think not," he told her frankly. "Rather, I'd like to watch you be hanged for consorting with pirates." He reached out and, all the whilst never averting his gaze from her, put the book back in the exact spot Arley had removed it from.

"He told me he was a merchant sailor," Arley muttered half to herself, half loud enough so that Norrington would hear. "Are you saying I ought to be hung for a supposed crime that was committed years ago, and one of which I was unaware?" She looked up at him lewdly. "_Surely_ you wouldn't allow your little 'Princess' to be hung, now, would you?"

"Yes," Norrington said bluntly, the clenching of his left cheek the only sign Arley received that her words had gotten through to him. "Consorting with a pirate is a criminal offence, one which I shall see through the duration of your arrestment." His straight posture was beginning to grate on Arley's last nerve.

She'd regained her confidence since she'd been taken by surprise, so much so that she walked over and dropped into the remaining chair with all four legs. Then, raising her voice loud enough so that she knew he couldn't possibly miss it, she starting muttering to herself. "I mean, I heard he was bitter since his _latest_ fiancee left him for a blacksmith, but that was two _years_ ago! Surely he'd be over it by now… Although," she said loudly, smirking to herself, "He's still not over me, and I didn't even leave him for a _blacksmith_, let alone a man…"

"Enough!" Norrington stormed over and banged his fist on the table, inches from where Arley's arm lay. "I'll not hear it any more! Lieutenant, arrest this woman!"

Arley's arm began to shake again, but she lifted her head and stared at him. "You know," she said lightly, "I half expected you to ask if I was batting for the other team. But I forgot."

Norrington gave no indication he had heard her words until his lieutenant had come over and bound her arms together in shackles, and had started marching her towards the door. Norrington thought his plan ingenious, and congratulated himself on planting both himself and his men in the building. Then, just before the door creaked open and the light from the outside world seeped in, he called over, "Forgot what?"

"That you're archaic," Arley yelled over her shoulder. She figured she could say what she liked; she didn't have the better cards now.

* * *

"You know," Arley lamented to the Guard who was dishing out her gruel, "If you would only just let me out, I wouldn't go far."

He continued to dish it out slowly, purposely antagonising her. He didn't look up, but a small smile played on his lips before he replied, "Aye, I know you will. You pirates are all the same." He pushed the bowl underneath the brig bars towards her, and she grimaced at the sight of it.

"Well," she said, dipping a finger and bringing it out, watching the substance drip slowly off her finger, "If you're so convinced this man was a pirate, I might as well inform you his food was a hell of a lot better than yours."

The sailor in charge of the food sneered. "I bet," he said simply, going along to the cell two doors down from hers, where another arrestee lay, no doubt not in anticipation.

"He's only doing this because it's personal!" She shouted after him. "If he hadn't believed that I actually cared about him, he wouldn't have bothered! I'm not guilty and the bastard knows it!"

"And where, pray tell me, did you learn such obscenities from?" Norrington asked, an amused smirk crossing his face. He walked easily towards Arley, and didn't bother hiding the fact that he was lording her capture over her. They both knew it.

"Pirates," Arley replied sarcastically. She huffed and glared at the commodore, wondering if he'd do her and the crew a favour and jump off the ship. She cocked her head to the side. "How'd you get reinstated, anyway? Last I heard you were in Tortuga begging to be part of Jack Sparrow's crew."

"My, my," Norrington said mildly, "You _do_ get around. But I see no harm in telling you; you'll not live long enough to tell anyone, anyway. I stole Davy Jones' heart and handed it to someone that you not need know the name of, and in turn was reinstated as commodore and put primarily in charge of tracking down all pirates, and-" he paused, giving her a hard look, "-known consorts of pirates. But, of course, I forgot," he said flippantly, turning around and heading back towards the stairs.

Arley sighed, but continued to play his little game. "Forgot what?" Her eyes followed him as he didn't acknowledge her response, but she knew he heard. He was one, two steps up when he found the courtesy to reply. "That you're incognizant and-" She never got to hear the rest of Norrington's reply, because there was a sudden shout and then sailors were flying everywhere, pushing past one another in a bid to reach the deck.

Norrington remained impassive, but he quickly climbed the rails and Arley could hear him shouting orders. "Stations, men! We'll not let Sparrow elude us again!"

_Sparrow_. Arley sighed; it was an interesting way to begin her journey to England's famous noose. Her ship was about to be attacked by the _Black Pearl_. She'd heard all the stories, of course. He'd ransacked an entire town without so much as a bullet being fired; eluded Norrington again and again; been cursed, been uncursed, cursed again, and damned for eternity by Davy Jones. But she'd thought Jack Sparrow was going to be laying low for a while. Or at least until everyone forgot about his latest misadventure. Evidently, she was wrong.

She listened hard for a moment, but with all the shouting and crashing and the waves beating down against the hull of the ship, she had no hope of hearing what was going on. She slumped down against the far side of the cell and waited. She doubted that the pirates would bother getting her out, and if she were honest with herself she wasn't sure she wanted then to. Of course, she didn't exactly want to be hung the day she set foot in England, as was sure to happen, but she had no mind to be gallivanting around on the _Pearl_, either. Especially after all the things she'd heard about Jack Sparrow. But she was fairly sure the pirates wouldn't be able to break through the bars.

It didn't take the pirates long to overcome the Guards; she'd heard Norrington say that they were travelling with much less men than he'd like, and she smirked at the irony. They came down in droves of twos and threes, barely giving Arley or the other prisoner a passing glance and instead continuing downward, to where Arley supposed the 'treasure' was. She gave them a dubious look as they passed; she highly doubted they would find anything of value. It was a Navy ship, not a merchant ship, but she also knew Sparrow was more intelligent than one would suspect, but ransacking a Navy ship was not a particularly intelligent thing to do.

She watched as still more pirates came down. She recognised none of them; not that she could tell who was who. They were all covered in grime and smelt as if they had been out at sea for months. She wrinkled her nose slightly, as yet another pirate descended the stairs, but this time sauntered casually over to her and stood just outside the bars, making conversation as if they had just passed in the street or were neighbours. "How's the weather down here?"

Arley frowned; what sort of a question was that? Her posture became rigid, almost subconsciously, but she managed to reply, "Not bad. Or at least, until you boarded."

The pirate grinned toothily. He had long, thick black dreadlocks with an assortment of trinkets braided into them. A red bandanna covered his hair and his long goatee with plaited into two slightly uneven strands, meticulously tied with colourful string. His eyes were rimmed with kohl, and he smelt as if personal hygiene was not a high priority on his own 'to do' list. "Is that so?"

"Aye." Arley blinked; how had _that_ slipped out? She knew she wasn't the most virtuous or well-spoken lady on the seas, but she didn't think she'd even said _that_ before. Still, she supposed, the sailors said it often enough. She could have picked it up from them.

"So," he said, leaning casually against the bars of the cell, "You… and the commodore, aye?"

Arley choked. When she'd finished practically dry-retching, she snuck a glance over towards the pirate, who, as she suspected, was grinning wryly at her. "He put me in here!" She all but shouted.

"Aye, some people might find this-" here he swept a hand towards the cell- "More to their preference. If ye catch me drift."

Arley tried to resist the urge to blush, but the smirk on the pirate's face told her she wasn't successful. "Well I can assure you, Mr…"

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow," he slurred, wagging a finger at her. "'N' I just need ta know if you 'n' the commodore are _keen_ on each other… For personal reasons. Savvy?"

"Well, _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, it depends on your personal reasons." Arley had allowed herself to relax now; there was no way he could get to her through the bars without the keys and she sure as hell wouldn't be _helping_ him find a way in, either.

"'S good enough for me," Jack muttered, and smirked at her as he brought out a shiny gold key. "Look familiar?" He asked, dangling it in front of her as if she were a dog. Then, without waiting for an answer, he nodded and said, with a satisfied look on his face, "I thought so." He slowly and deliberately took as long as possible, just to antagonise Arley for the sake of it. Suddenly, when she thought she could stand it no longer, the lock slid free and Jack opened the door with one hand, whilst gesturing her out of the cell. "Oh, and don't do anything stupid, luv," he told her, not all together helpfully.

Arley snorted. "With you pointing that at my head?" She asked astutely, referring to the silver gun Jack had just pressed to her temple the second she had stepped outside of the relative safety of the cell.

Jack grinned. "No need to worry, luv," he smirked, following her up the staircase, the gun remaining steadily trained on her head the entire time, and it unnerved Arley so that she couldn't think of anything remotely witty to say in response. "Just a precaution."

The ascended the stairs, and once on deck Jack made a big show of it all. "Alright," he slurred, recklessly waving the gun in the air, all the while holding both of Arley's hands in one of his. "Nobody move."

Norrington turned and looked at Jack in surprise, but indecision played across his features before he took control and his face became impassive once more. "This is your idea of a joke, Sparrow?" Arley saw him glance towards her, then direct his gaze back to Jack. It would have been amusing, she thought, if not for the fact she had a gun pulled to her head ready to blow her brains out.

Jack delayed his response for a moment, before breaking into a grin. "Yeah," he answered, clearly enjoying getting a rise out of the commodore as Norrington bristled and made a lunge for him, before one of the other pirates rapped him on the knuckles with a sharply bladed sword. "It is."

Norrington sighed, before turning to his men and nodding. One by one, they lay down their swords and raised their arms above their heads. Arley herself was only too aware had she not have had a prior experience with the commodore, they would most certainly not be surrendering and would instead have let the pirates taken her. It only reinforced her suspicions that Norrington knew she was not guilty and had other parsimonious reasons to take her back to England.

"What's this?" The tone of his voice made Arley think he was rather inebriated. "You're willing to give up for the sake of a prisoner?" He smirked and Arley could smell the rum on his breath.

The commodore's mouth jerked; he did not like people of a condescending nature, particularly Sparrow. But he kept his expression blank, and tilted his head up. "I would have thought, Sparrow, that you did not like using force, but your irreverent sense of wit," he responded dryly.

"You flatter me," Jack drawled with a grin. "But this is where my irreverent sense of wit comes in. I am taking this young lady whom you have had relations with and obviously care for, in order to get _you_, Commodore, to tell us where it is. So by being incredibly sneaky and bluntly obvious, I am once again pulling this off in front of your very long nose."

Norrington blinked. "You're insane."

"No," Jack corrected him, stumbling somewhat, but never releasing his loose hold on Arley, "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, mate."

"Not this again," Norrington groaned, but he looked up at the pirate and kept his gaze steady. "I don't know what you're talking about, and I will not allow you to put the girl in danger."

"Ah, I think you do," Jack slurred, obviously thinking it great entertainment. By then both the pirates and the Guard had stopped and were watching the show with varying degrees of cynicism. The pirates doubted that Norrington actually had whatever it was Jack wanted in the first place; the red coats were dubious of the fact that their commanding officer was sane, in allowing them to give up because of the capturing of a prisoner.

"You won't hurt her," Norrington stated the obvious.

"Nay, mate," Jack laughed it off. "'Cause it's not my style but every time I do something you think it's not my style and so therefore whatever I do is my style and an unpredictable style at that."

"You've finally gone around the bend," the Commodore said austerely. "I've always thought you mad, Sparrow, but I think today you've topped it."

"Why thank you," Jack was still grinning, finding it more and more facetious as it went on. "I've always worried what you thought of me." Then his voice dropped, and only a slight hint of the drunken slur that was previously there remained. "_Now tell me where it is_."

"You're a pirate," Norrington spat, his personal hatred finally shining through his military stance. "We don't give in to pirates."

"I see," Jack drawled, "Not even your former captain?"

Arley let out an undignified snort at this. It was true then, she mused. Commodore James Norrington had really worked under the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. She had started to see why this was all a game to Sparrow; watching Norrington get flustered was indeed a very satiable sport. Although, she admitted, her personal feelings on the topic might have been clouding her judgement.

When Norrington said no more, just pursed his lips, Jack's eyes gleamed and he called to his first mate without even taking his eyes from the Commodore's. "Gibbs," he called, lazily, "Come and collect the lady. We'll hole her up in the _Pearl_ for a little while, and then maybe the Commodore will change his attitude towards the issue at hand."

"Cap'n," Gibbs nodded, taking Arley by the arm and walking her to the edge of the ship. "Yer gonna hav'ta go by rope," he explained, catching hold of the rope with his free hand. Arley made no move to flee and so Gibbs helped her up onto the railings, then firmly placed an arm around her waist and the other on the rope. "'Ere we go," he said, and promptly swung off the boat and over the small section of open sea. Arley stared into the water; deliberately disobeying Gibbs' shouted command. It was mesmerising, she thought, until she ironically remembered that many a person died just by being eaten by sharks alone.

Gibbs must have felt her become taut, because he shouted something that Arley missed over the squealing of the wind and suddenly there was wood beneath her feet again and she heaved a sigh of relief. "Ye got to git in the Cap'n's cabin," Gibbs muttered, mostly to himself as he strode off in the direction of what Arley presumed to be the Captain's cabin. It seemed that once she was on another ship, no one thought to tie her up. She paused for a moment in indecision; she didn't think she was brave enough in the current situation to even _try_ to run away. Besides, she reasoned, what good would it do her? A bullet through the head?_ Better a bullet through the head than a rope around the neck_.

The pirate was waiting for her impatiently. "C'mon, c'mon," he said, gesturing for her to hurry up. It was then that he noticed her speechlessness, for he added, not all together beneficially, "We'll not hurt yer. Yer a… diversion, of sorts." He scratched his head. "I dunno the right word. Cap'n just wants yer here til the red coat gives him what he wants. Ye'll not be 'ere long," he said, waiting until she had walked into the middle of the room before taking the opportunity to leave and lock the door behind him.

When Gibbs arrived back on deck of the _Voluntad_, all hell was breaking loose. Pirates were duelling sailors with any means possible- he saw one fellow who had lost his sword near poke out his opponent's eye with a broken oar. In the midst of it all, Jack Sparrow and James Norrington were battling furiously, each one determine to out do the other.

Whilst Gibbs watched, the Commodore sliced Jack's shirt with a precise move that caused Jack to react too late. He, in turn, managed to put a great gaping hole in Norrington's red coat. Norrington let out a few choice obscenities, letting Jack know that he was finally getting under his skin. Jack took a few steps forward, forcing the red coat to even out the distance and take two back, therefore backing up against the mast.

Jack smirked, and Norrington glared at him through hate-filled eyes. "One last chance," he said, his voice dangerously low. The hilt of his sword was steady in his hand as the blade became acquainted with Norrington's neck. "_Tell me where it is_." When the Commodore valiantly refused, he drew the sword ever so softly down Norrington's neck. A thin trickle of blood ran down his skin, seeping through his shirt and creating a sharp red stain. Jack watched as the shirt absorbed the liquid, the stained patch spreading further.

He normally never used violence if he could help it, preferring cunning and sagacity to elude his chasers and get his way. But he had been searching for the item for a long time, now- and Jack was all too aware that it felt longer than it had been. He needed this item, and if he had to direct violence at the ship's crew to get it, then it was something he was resigned to.

"It's in my cabin," the Commodore admitted wearily.

"Tis not," Jack pronounced, applying just a minor amount of pressure to Norrington's throat. "Me crew and I have checked it."

"It is," Norrington shot Jack a dry look. "I'd be a fool to leave it in full view of pirates like you."

"Aye," Jack agreed, "And we all know a fool is one thing you're not." Norrington got the distinct idea Jack was mocking him, and apparently all of Jack's crew thought so, because they laughed and smirked. They'd long since stopped fighting; the red coats hadn't put much of a fight up when they'd seen their beloved Commodore pressed up against the mast.

"It's in the corner, under the floorboard in a red tin," Norrington murmured, resisting the urge to struggle against the sword's pressure. He glared at Jack with distaste. "I was just about to take it back to England and hide it from vicious bastards like you."

If Jack was offended at the words he gave no sign. "Well it's a good thing I caught you before that, wasn't it?" He asked, the humour evident in his voice but not his expression. He didn't relive the force on Norrington's throat, merely called to Gibbs to watch him. "Mister Gibbs, if you will," he said formally. "I have a cabin I'd like to check." Then he leaned forward, ever so subtly, and whispered, "If you are lying to me, Commodore, don't think I won't hesitate to kill you."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows at Jack but brandished his own sword and held it against the neck of the Commodore. Jack tipped his hat at the two men and swaggered off towards the direction of the officer's room.

The inside was everything he had expected from a man such as Norrington; offensively neat and every object in its proper place. He crossed the wooden floorboards to the only available corner of the room, and mentally wondered how it was that there happened to be space underneath the floorboards on a ship such as the _Voluntad_. He filed away the thought for later processing and knocked on the wood, stopping when he finally heard the hollow sound he had been aiming for.

Without regard for the piece of timber, he pulled it up and looked expectantly inside. All that resided there was a singular red tin, one that was small even by Jack's standards. He tore off the lid and stared inside. Letting out a breath of relief he hadn't known he'd been holding, he sighed, as it appeared the Commodore was telling the truth. It was in there, and now that Jack had taken it back, he could get off the red coats' ship before another Navy vessel came along and wondered why the _Black Pearl_ had anchored next to her.

Satisfied, he stood up and thumped his three cornered hat against his leg, unsuccessfully trying to remove the dirt from it. He carefully placed it back onto his matted hair and took the tin, patting it as he would a cat, had he been inclined to pat cats.

Jack swaggered out of the cabin, raising the tin slightly towards Gibbs so that he knew he could release the Commodore and get a move on. He turned to his crew, all of whom were watching him, anyway. "We'll just be getting' off this ship now, gentlemen," he said, the slur thick. He turned towards the red coats, which were staring at him with a mixture of astonishment and annoyance. "Thank you for your kind hospitality," he said, removing his hat and sweeping it towards the floor in an exaggerated gesture of thanks. "If you excuse me, I'll jus' be goin'." He stepped neatly up to the railing and grasped the rope with one hand, swinging neatly across. His men followed his example and soon hordes of there were swinging across, leaving behind the stunned Guards.

"Aye," Gibbs said to Jack, once they were safely sailing away from the _Voluntad_ and towards the open water, "He's a imbecile, to be sure."

Jack nodded, smirking and swaying slightly with the rise and fall of the waves beneath the _Pearl's_ hull. "Too hung up on revenge. He needs to let loose… I'd offer him my rum, but as is…" Jack shrugged and held up his empty bottle.

"Ye wouldn't give it to 'im anyway," Gibbs observed, heading towards the rigging.

"True," Jack agreed auspiciously, as he crossed to his cabin to safely hide away his latest takings. He frowned when he went to open it but found the wooden door locked; he hadn't remembered locking it. Still, he shrugged; there was always a chance. He produced the key he always kept in his pocket and shut the door behind him, whistling tunelessly to himself. He'd just placed the tin carefully in a hole in the wall and covered it with a painting when he looked around, only to see a young woman there, staring at him sardonically.

"Sorry, luv," Jack grinned, "I make it a rule not to bring 'em to me cabin. Bad luck," he added, and winked suggestively at her.

Arley blushed and rolled her eyes. She'd been waiting for someone to return for what felt to her like hours, and when they did all she got was this excuse for a man? "Can I go back yet?" She asked bluntly.

"Aw, now." Jack pretended to pout and it was all Arley could do not to hit him. "Ye don't like my company?"

"Not so far, no."

"So you'd rather go back to England and get your pretty little head cut off?" Jack drawled, oblivious to her discomfort. In truth, he had been rather taken aback to discover that a woman had chosen to reside in his cabin, but who was he to complain? He smirked. It wasn't everyday that they chose to jump ship for a pirate vessel.

"Yes," Arley said firmly, eyeing the pirate captain. At least in England she had some hope of escaping; how, she didn't know. But here they would most likely shoot her and not think twice about it.

"Well, sorry to break it to you," Jack answered smartly, "But we left them behind long ago."

"You mean…" Arley sucked in a breath, and looked up at Sparrow, "You mean to say I'm _marooned_ here?"

"Well in not such a delicate fashion, yes." Jack replied, and leaned against the door, wondering what she would do. She might turn out to be entertaining, he thought, judging by the sharp tongue he'd seen before. But when Arley stood up and strode across the room, he hadn't been expecting it. He grinned and licked his lips. "You'd be wanting somethin' luv?"

"Yes," Arley whispered huskily, leaning close to Jack. He closed his eyes and waited, a smirk playing across his lips. What he did not think she would do, however, was slap him straight across the face.

"Yer lucky I know how to treat women!" Jack growled, placing a hand to the tender spot on his face. She'd slapped him! The bloody woman had slapped him!

"I can't just be stuck _here_!" Arley yelled, desperation creeping into her voice. That morning she'd been running from the Guards in Port Royal; now she was stuck on a boat with the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow, and locked in the same room nonetheless!

"Well," Jack smirked, his indignation at having been slapped still written clearly across his face, "Seems to me like you are."

* * *

**A/N**: I had most of this story planned out, believe it or not. Then I actually sat down and that wasn't what appeared on the screen; not even anything remotely like it, really. I think this might be better- I'm not certain, though- because I think it adds a little more… _something_ to the plot. Everything will become clearer later in the story, I promise. Now that I actually _don't_ have all this planned out, I'd be grateful for suggestions, ideas or comments on my story in a review. Thank you! 


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